


cloak and dagger

by RattyCatty



Series: Kinktober 2019 [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/F, Intimidation, Kinktober 2019, Knifeplay, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 10:51:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20872985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RattyCatty/pseuds/RattyCatty
Summary: Faith plays with her new toy in 'Choices'. Willow is surprised to find she doesn't hate it.For day 3 of Kinktober - Knifeplay.





	cloak and dagger

**Author's Note:**

> hello! so wildly this is my first attempt at buffy fic in literally......9 years or something. I was 11 when i last tried and it was very bad and heterosexual so i hope this is a bit better! happy kinktober, lets get this sin :)
> 
> feedback always appreciated!
> 
> warnings: knifeplay, intimidation, capture, 'psycho' slur as used in buffy, general darkness.

Willow hates Faith. Hates her stupid catchphrases and attitude and cocky arrogance, hates even more her friend-stealy-ness and how she uses people (Xander) and then discards them (Xander). Also how she’s a murderer. Not great. 

But she’s not afraid of her. She probably should be – should fear for her life, because Faith is a badass slayer with a big evil-looking knife and she’s just a squishy witch only just floating pencils. If she could logic her way out of this, she’d be just fine, but Faith isn’t really the type to listen to reason. And yet, Willow isn’t scared. She’s just _mad._

Faith punches her, _hard, _and _ow, _but Willow stands back up tall and looks right into those dark, angry eyes. Hands run over her chest, over her coat, pull slightly and she swallows but not out of fear. Her stomach feels queasy with the unknown, her skin tingling, and something surges as Faith purrs, “You’re beggin’ for some _deep pain.”_

Seduction is Faith’s whole gig, that whole touching and lack of personal space as power thing, and Willow would be a dummy to fall for it, just a complete idiot, but a thrill runs down her spine. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Let’s see what we can do about that,” Faith whispers, pulling her knife out of her jacket and _ok, _maybe Willow is a little afraid now. It hits home that she’s captured, alone with a psycho with a big knife and the books were cool, having her little moment to be brave? Cool, but also something she can happily go without for a good while if the cost is her on the sharp end of a pointy thing. _Now would be a good time for a daring rescue, Buffy._

The sharp edge is cool against her skin, and Faith slides it over her jaw, strokes it down her throat – that sensitive point that she likes when Oz kisses, that has her whimpering and growing hot and tingly all over. Goosebumps rise in the wake of cold metal, and she’s horrified to find that – ok, the _might die _factor is not super fun, but it almost feels good, like how Oz’s prickly stubble feels sharp and scratchy in a nice way when he lets it get long. Willow sucks in a wobbly breath, and watches the dead look in Faith’s eyes light up into something curious and delighted.

Her lips are dark, full, and Willow hates how convincing her fake smiles and lying pouts are – how she pulled the wool over their eyes for so long with the troubled girl act. The witch bares her teeth in anger and lifts her chin, steeling her jaw. “What are you gonna do, kill me?” she whispers as viciously as she can without pressing into the metal. “You need me as bait.”

Faith hums noncommittally. “Boss has plans, yeah.” The very tip of the knife dances at the tender skin right beneath her chin, and all she would have to do is _press _gently to break the skin and draw blood. Willow’s mouth is dry and her heart rabbits. “Doesn’t mean I can’t have my fun,” Faith finishes with a seductive smile, voice deceptively soft.

Willow is beginning to panic now. Not full-blown, dysfunctional panic but – just a little bit. That feeling in her tummy is getting bigger, more noticeable, burning hot like the rage in her chest. And – ok, it feels a lot like butterflies, and like how – but Faith is a girl, and Faith is _Faith, _completely dislikeable, and how can you hate someone and yet…_want _them too?

The knife slides back down the column of her throat, bumping over the ridges as she swallows again. This whole thing is just – perverted, and terrible, and god, she wishes she was at home with a good book and some homework, but the adrenalin in her veins is almost thrilling. Make it make sense, Rosenberg. The tip hits the soft fleshy bit above her clavicle and twists in. She exhales sharply and swallows again.

Faith cocks her head, studying her and then grins, all pearly glinting teeth and red, red lips. “You know, I always kinda thought you were the cutest Scoob,” she teases, and Willow shuts her eyes against it. “No, it’s true! Nicer than Buffy, better looking than Xander, got that hot nerd thing goin’ on. I bet you’ve gotta be pretty open-minded with the crazy Wicca shit too.”

“If it weren’t for the whole pesky betrayal thing, maybe I would’ve given you a shot. We could have had some fun,” Faith says, bold like she knows for a fact Willow would go for it. Bitch.

“I don’t really go for slutty murdering psychopaths,” she retorts, and tries to ignore the feeling of Faith’s breath on her jaw. She’s suddenly closer, leaning in to intimidate, but she won’t be scared.

“Ouch.” The slayer chuckles. “But false, try again.” She trails the point down over Willow’s chest, almost tender as the tip draws patterns over the thin velvet. And oh, god, Oz and she haven’t really gone beyond innocent good touches yet, so this is _new _for all sorts of reasons. Her nipples harden as Faith circles them with the blade.

“I can read people pretty well. I can read straight girls pretty well. And you? Well.” Faith pauses and sighs slowly. “Aren’t.” The slayer lunges forward to press her mouth against Willow’s throat, hot and angry, all teeth and harsh breath. It’s nothing like Oz. It’s violent, aggressive, a power play and – oh, that’s a moan, she’s moaning breathily against her will as Faith’s mouth continues its assault. It hurts and it feels nice, too, in an unwholesome, confusing way she knows Oz would never go for. Teeth nip her throat, hard, followed by a hot, soothing tongue and Faith grips her hip, pulling her close. Her other hand trails the knife lazily down between them, down between her breasts and over her stomach to her abdomen, teasing. She could stab her, right now – just slide the knife right into her tummy like butter, or she could touch her, slice away the soft velvet and satisfy that unfamiliar yearning heat. Willow squirms and feels Faith huff a laugh against her neck.

The door opens with a creak and they _both _jump, Faith falling into neutral again as the Mayor rounds the doorframe and tuts. “Now, girls. I hope I don’t have to separate you two.”

Willow is breathing hard, and even Faith herself looks a little distracted as the Mayor talks. He’s slimy, sharp, and Willow bristles, but it’s like Faith doesn’t even hear him until he barks her name a third time. Sighing with annoyance, Faith strokes the knife over Willow’s cheek and up her jaw again, a last time.

“I got someone,” she spits, backing off suddenly. “I got him.” And Faith sidles back to sprawl on the desk, looking Willow up and down. And then it comes – that daring rescue, finally, in the form of a _heck of an interesting phone call _and a deal, and relief fills Willow up. And yet, her body is still thrumming, and she’s almost disappointed, even as Faith looks her over with dark eyes filled with promise of _we’ll continue this. _


End file.
